A Recipe for Love
by Boogum
Summary: “Why do I have to wear Miss Strawberry Shortcake’s apron?” demanded Draco. His teacher only smiled wickedly, and he suddenly wondered if he had made a mistake in asking her to help him cook the dinner. She was a redheaded shrew, after all.


**Generic disclaimer applies.**

**A/N: To the fabulous **_**starlit skyes**_**, I hope you enjoy this little birthday fic I have written for you. I couldn't remember your exact prompt for the exchange, so I hope you'll forgive me if it doesn't follow everything you wanted. As you know, I have a memory of a goldfish, but I loved your idea and so here I am writing it for you now—or, at least, as far as I can remember of it. :P  
**

**A Recipe for Love**

Thump, Thump, Thump.

Draco Malfoy let out a small groan and rolled over on his bed, hoping that the infernal knocking would go away if he ignored it. There was indeed a moment of silence, and he was just congratulating himself on his clever thinking when the door to his bedroom burst open and a short but rather formidable redhead stomped inside.

"Ugh, the light," moaned Draco, throwing an arm over his eyes to shield out the offending sunlight that had seeped in behind her through the open door.

"Oh, stop being such a baby," responded his unfeeling companion. "Besides, it's almost noon. You should be up and doing things, not shutting yourself away in the dark like some wannabe vampire."

Draco rolled his eyes. Just because she was bonkers in the head and loved to get up at the crack of dawn did not mean that everyone else did. It was his day off; he should be allowed to sleep in as much as he liked. Not that she would understand that, obnoxious morning person that she was.

"What do you want, Weasley?" grumbled Draco, sitting up in his bed to glower at her. "I take it you _do_ want something, considering you were trying to break down my door just before. One would think you were a giantess with the way you knock."

"Oh, very funny," snapped Ginny. "Perhaps I wouldn't have to knock so loud if you didn't snore like an orchestra of saws at someone's Death Day party."

"I do not snore!" exclaimed Draco, affronted.

"If you say so," shrugged that infuriating damsel. "In any case, that isn't what I wanted to talk to you about. What's this about your precious Miranda and her parents coming to dinner tonight?"

Draco suddenly sat bolt upright. "_Tonight_?"

"Yes, tonight. She flooed you just before to let you know that she and her parents will be here at 7pm, and that they're _really excited to try your infamous, gourmet cooking_," mimicked Ginny in Miranda's snobbish voice. "Gourmet cooking, Draco? If you call toast and Three Second Spell dinners gourmet, I would hate to know what you consider ordinary food."

"I completely forgot," groaned Draco, running a hand through his hair and making it look more tousled than ever.

"How like you," observed Ginny contemptuously.

Draco ignored this remark. He was used to the redhead's biting comments. Besides, he had far more important things to think about than how unfeeling his flatmate could be. Miranda, his girlfriend, thought he was a brilliant cook. It had been a harmless lie, calculated to set him in her good books, since his natural charm and good looks seemed to have failed in winning her attention. He had only been looking for quick shag at the time, so he had never considered that he might one day live to regret his lie, but he had not reckoned on Miranda's own determination. She never did give him the much-anticipated shag, and while he had stubbornly continued to try and win her body, er, heart, he somehow found himself in a steady relationship with her, which then led to her not only pressuring him to meet her parents, but also to cook for them.

Even now, Draco was not sure how he actually came to agree to such a suicidal promise. He must have been drunk, for he certainly knew that he could not cook, but somehow he _had_ agreed to her ridiculous plan, and now—now he was doomed. Or, to be less melodramatic, his relationship was.

"Well?" demanded Ginny, snapping him from his thoughts. "Will you be cooking for Miranda and her parents tonight?"

"You know damn well that I can't cook."

She smiled wickedly. "I know, and I look forward to seeing their faces when they realise this fact too."

Draco scowled, though he should have known that he would get no sympathy from that corner. He may be flatting with the redhead, but it was more for mutual convenience rather than choice. Though, if he were to be perfectly honest with himself, he would admit that he had grown rather attached to the littlest Weasley. She was pushy, demanding and put her nose in where it didn't belong far too often for his tastes, but she was still his flatmate, and it helped that she was a good cook.

Wait a minute. _She_ was a good cook.

"But this is perfect," exclaimed Draco, quite giddy with his newfound revelation. "_You_ can help me make the dinner."

"What?"

Ginny stared at him like he had grown an extra head. It was rather disconcerting, and made him almost want to check a mirror just to make sure he hadn't.

"Why would I want to help you impress your stupid girlfriend and her parents by helping you cook a dinner you promised them you would make?"

"Because you love me?"

"Try a new one," responded Ginny dryly.

"Because—"

Draco fished around his mind for something he could bribe (or blackmail) her with to get her to agree.

"Okay, how about this? If you help me cook dinner tonight, I promise that I will stop teasing your friends when they come over."

"Please," scoffed Ginny, "you'll break that promise as soon as you next see one of them. You can't help yourself."

"I swear I'll be the perfect paragon of manners."

She looked at him suspiciously for a moment. "Very well, but if you break your promise, you have to clean the toilet for the rest of the year."

Draco swallowed, suddenly hesitant. He wondered if Miranda was worth the risk, but then he thought of the leggy brunette and felt his nether regions hum with pleasure at the thought of exploring that perfect body. Yes, she was definitely worth it. He would just have to make sure he kept his word for once. He did not doubt that Ginny would keep hers.

"It's a deal," said Draco, hoping against hope that this was one agreement he would not live to regret.

Ginny showed neither pleasure nor dismay. She simply told him to get dressed so that they could go to the wizarding supermarket and get the necessary items for tonight. If he wanted to impress his precious Miranda, he would need the ingredients to do so.

"But it's still early," whined Draco.

"You obviously have no idea how long it takes to cook a three course meal," responded Ginny with a laugh. "Now get up. We've got lots to do today."

"Yes, Mum," sighed Draco.

He thrust the blankets off his body and stood up. A startled look came to Ginny's face, and her cheeks suddenly flushed with crimson. He wondered what was wrong with her, and then he glanced down to where she was looking, and a small smirk settled on his lips.

"Like what you see, Weasley?"

Instead of being thrown into a state of bashful confusion as he had intended her to do, she simply looked his naked body up and down, rather boldly at that, and then she gave him a smile that made his normally unflappable ego quiver just a little. He did not like feeling self-conscious, and he sure as hell did not like feeling that way when he was naked, but under that amused gaze, he couldn't help but wonder if he really was not as gorgeously proportioned as he had always thought himself to be.

"Perhaps you should invest in some pyjamas, Draco," suggested Ginny, lifting her eyes to meet his own. "You might save yourself the humiliation."

"Just because you have the hormones of a dried up old fossil doesn't mean that every female does," retorted Draco, stung out of his composure. "I'll have you know that most women find me very desirable."

"Of course they do, love," said Ginny with unnerving sweetness, giving him a sympathetic pat on his cheek.

"Oh, sod off," snapped Draco, shaking her hand away.

She chuckled to herself, but complied with his wishes all the same. Draco poked his tongue out at the closed door, quite forgetting that he was twenty-four, a Malfoy, and had his dignity to protect. He didn't care how immature he looked in that moment; all he knew was that he hated his flatmate. No woman should be so cruel, let alone be able to resist him like that. It just wasn't normal. Then again, he was talking about Ginny Weasley here, and she was the epitome of abnormal.

"I don't hear the shower running!"

Draco grumbled something under his breath that was far too uncomplimentary to repeat.

"Why don't you cook me breakfast instead of acting like my talking task reminder?" retorted the blond.

"Anything for you, dear," called Ginny in a horrible imitation of a loving wife.

He shuddered at the very thought.

Once he had showered and dressed, Draco settled down at the kitchen table to eat the breakfast Ginny had prepared for him (bacon and eggs on toast) while they discussed what meals he could make that night; though, perhaps _discuss_ was too nice a word. In actual fact, they mostly just argued, but in amongst all the bickering, they came to the agreement that he should make pumpkin soup for the first course, some weird curry thing for the second that Ginny assured him was very tasty, and a traditional chocolate cake with a dollop of cream on top for dessert.

"And you're sure this will impress Miranda?" asked Draco doubtfully.

"Yes, Draco, I'm sure she will be thoroughly impressed and will want to rip her clothes off for you the first chance she gets."

Draco seemed pleased by this, a dreamy expression coming to his face as he thought of Miranda ripping off her clothes.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "That does not give you an invitation to start the fantasy right in front of me. You'll make me miss my lunch."

"Jealous, Weasley?" smirked Draco.

"You wish."

Draco had, in fact, wondered what it would be like to enjoy a romp in the bedroom with his flatmate. She was not ugly—quite the opposite, in fact. Her hair was a vibrant shade of red that switched between orange and auburn, depending on the light, and her eyes were a deep, chocolaty brown, veiled with surprisingly dark lashes for a redhead. Her skin was pale, and though she had once been incredibly freckled, now the cinnamon splotches could only be seen on her shoulders and arms, with a few light sprinkles on her nose. Her lips were full and soft, just begging to be kissed, but then she would open her mouth to speak and the effect would be ruined. Really, she would be almost beautiful if she didn't talk so much, for her body was all that could be desired, though nothing compared to his sinfully curvaceous girlfriend.

"Eyes back on my face, Malfoy," growled Ginny.

As he thought, she always ruined it by speaking.

"Tell me, Weasley, do you enjoy being a cantankerous shrew who frightens all men?"

"I don't know, Malfoy, do you enjoy being a chauvinistic, womanising pig?"

"Actually, I do."

"Ugh! Let's just go to the supermarket," muttered Ginny, changing the subject. "I can't be bothered arguing with your over-inflated ego right now."

He smirked again, pleased that he had won that round.

"After you, my dear," said Draco, holding the door open for her.

She lifted her chin loftily and stalked past him. Draco smirked to himself as he followed behind her, admiring the way her hips swayed with each haughty step she took. Whoever made that rule about letting a woman go first sure knew his stuff. Sometimes, it could be quite rewarding to act the gentleman.

"Stop looking at my arse, Draco."

"Damn."

**OOOO**

"I think that's all we need," said Ginny, running her eyes over the shopping list in her hands.

Draco leaned over her to read the list, one hand resting on her shoulder. "No, we forgot to get the cream for the cake."

"Oh, right. Could you grab that?"

He sighed, rolling an exasperated eye her way, and then he walked off to get the bottle of cream.

"Husbands," commented a middle-aged woman from next to Ginny. "They always have to make a fuss about everything. Mine refuses to go shopping with me altogether."

"Oh, he's not my husband."

"Partner?"

Ginny shook her head. "Flatmate."

"Ah, I'm sorry, dear. I just thought by the way you two were behaving together that—but, of course, you're not a couple." She cast her eyes over Draco appreciatively. "Handsome boy. Is he taken?"

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me. I think my friend needs me."

She pushed the trolley over to where Draco was currently frowning over two different bottles of cream. He didn't look up when she stopped beside him, but he did hear her irritable huff.

"What's wrong with you?" asked Draco, glancing down at her.

"That woman I was just talking to."

"What about her?"

"She thought we were a couple."

Draco laughed. "Oh?"

"And then, when she realised we weren't, she asked me if you were single. I think she's taken quite a fancy to you."

"Is she hot?"

"You. Have. A. Girlfriend!" hissed Ginny, glaring at him. "And no she was not 'hot'. She's a leathery old woman with a bad tan and hideous fashion sense, who probably has a balding fat husband that doesn't give her any satisfaction waiting for her at home, and so she turns to young men in the hopes of getting her thrills there, but whether they'll be able to get past her pterodactyl-like face is another matter entirely."

"I'm surprised you managed to say that at all in one breath," remarked Draco, amused."

"What?"

"Never mind." He held up the two bottles of cream in his hand. "I wasn't sure which one to get."

"This one, of course," said Ginny, snatching the red-labelled bottle from his hand and putting it in the trolley.

"All right, keep your hair on," replied Draco, placing the unwanted bottle of cream back on the shelf. "You don't have to be so pushy about it."

Ginny just let out another of her irritated little huffs and headed off towards the checkout. Draco sighed, following much more placidly behind, and wondered how long her petulant mood would last this time. Thankfully, her grumpiness didn't last very long at all. By the time they had bought their food and Disapparated back to the flat, she was back to her usual cheerful self. Well, as cheerful as someone of her shrewish disposition could be.

Ginny tied her hair up in a messy ponytail, slipped on a practical blue apron, and then tossed him an apron with strawberries on it.

"You're going to want to wear that."

"Why do I have to wear Miss Strawberry Shortcake's apron?" demanded Draco, feeling his manly sensibilities recoil at the thought.

"Do you want me to help you cook this or not?"

"Fine," sighed Draco.

He put the offensive apron on and then looked at her expectantly. "What now?"

"Now you do what I say," said Ginny with a wicked smile.

Draco gulped. Just what had he got himself into?

**OOOO**

"_Draco_, you have to keep stirring the pot!" scolded Ginny, pushing him out of the way so she could save the sauce from burning.

The very harassed looking Malfoy cursed loudly as he cut his thumb with the vegetable knife, and then he threw a darkling glare at his flatmate.

"Now look what you made me do!"

"That was your own fault for being so clumsy with a knife, and if you weren't such a lazy idiot, you would actually know the spells to save you from having to do everything manually like a Muggle."

"You could just cast the spells," muttered Draco somewhat sulkily.

"But then you wouldn't have cooked the meal, would you? Now throw those vegetables in the pot, and please don't forget to stir the sauce this time."

Draco obliged, though he looked sulkier than ever. If he had known that cooking was going to be such difficult and tedious work, he would have never agreed to make this dinner for Miranda. He just couldn't understand it, for he had always been good at Potions, but there was something about cooking that stumped him. Maybe it was because he was dealing with food instead of strange herbs and animal parts, or maybe it was simply because Ginny looked incredibly sexy when she cooked and kept distracting him. Either way, he was terrible at it, and he wished to Merlin that he had never agreed to this ridiculous scheme.

Ginny leaned over him to peer into the pot. "Yes, that looks good. We can get started on the dessert now."

Draco had to remind himself that this was his shrewish flatmate leaning over him and not the deliciously tempting woman he was imagining. It was surprisingly easy for, typical of Ginny, she had to go and tell him to stop standing around like a useless piece of waxwork and get more bowls so they could make the cake.

"Whatever you say, Weasley," said Draco, moving to grab the desired bowls.

They continued to make the cake without further mishap, and then, once it had been placed in the oven to bake, rewarded themselves on their hard work by eating the leftover mixture in the bowl with their fingers.

Ginny looked at Draco and suddenly giggled.

"What's so funny?"

"You have mixture all around your mouth," explained Ginny, still laughing. "And here I thought Malfoys were meant to be dignified."

"Minx," retorted Draco, wiping the chocolate from his face.

Ginny only grinned and then moved past him to wash the residue chocolate off her hands. He joined her by the sink, squabbling with her for a moment over the soap, but they soon got over their differences and started conversing normally again.

"So I might go stay at Hermione's tonight," said Ginny, now drying her hands. "I don't want to get in the way of you and Miranda."

"Don't be stupid," said Draco, taking the towel from her to dry his own hands. "Besides, her parents are going to be at the dinner, and you're highly mistaken if you think I'm going to deal with them by myself. You're staying, and that's that."

"Yes, Mum," said Ginny in a mocking impersonation of his own voice.

Draco used the towel in his hands like a whip, hitting her sharply but playfully on her backside. She let out an indignant shriek and, seeing the laughter in his eyes, picked up a tea towel that had been hanging on the rack and hit him right back. He caught her hand, which was still holding the tea towel, and pulled her closer to him, a smirk curling his lips as he trapped her in his arms.

"Now, love, play nice," admonished Draco in a velvety murmur, his lips just brushing against her ear.

Ginny froze in his arms. He also realised the magnitude of what he had just done and quickly released her. They stared at each other for a moment, like two cats waiting for the other to pounce, and then she slowly relaxed, letting out a rather shaky laugh as she did so.

"Well, I think we're done drying our hands, don't you?"

She started to walk away, but Draco quickly grabbed her arm, pulling her to a halt.

"I wasn't going to kiss you."

"I know," said Ginny quietly.

But there was no conviction in her eyes. They both knew that he had overstepped a line, pushing their relationship beyond the boundary of simple friendship. The carefree moments of the old days were gone, and now there was a new note resonating in the lives, one that Draco was not sure he liked. It was too different, too threatening.

Too undeniably tempting.

"You should get ready," said Ginny, gently disengaging his fingers from her arm. "Miranda will be here soon."

"Right," said Draco almost regretfully. "Miranda."

That was what tonight was about, after all. He wanted to impress Miranda, the girlfriend whom he had taken such pains to win, even to the point of lying about his rather dismal culinary skills.

So why was he only thinking of Ginny?

**OOOO**

"Oh, Draco, this is simply divine," gushed Miranda. "You really are a fabulous cook. Isn't he a fabulous cook, Mother?"

"Quite superb. It almost makes me want to hire you as my chef," tittered the mother. "Goodness knows our house-elf is going quite senile and can't cook to save herself. Isn't that right, Frederick?"

"Quite so, Valeria."

"I'm flattered," responded Draco dryly.

Ginny snorted into her drink, which she promptly tried to disguise as a coughing fit. Obviously she had heard his sarcasm.

"All right there, Weasley?" asked Draco, giving her a helpful pat on her back.

She nodded. "Perfectly fine."

He smiled at her, but before he could say anything, Miranda's mother was demanding his attention with another of her silly questions. Draco answered as politely as he could, and the dinner continued without further mishap. It was during the second course that attention was thrown back on Ginny.

"Now I know your name cannot be 'Weasley,'" said Valeria, frowning at the redhead.

"It's not," replied Ginny, throwing a wry smile at the blond next to her. "That's just what Draco calls me. He can't break the habit of calling me by my surname, you see, even if we have lived together for two years now. It makes me wonder if he even knows my first name."

"Oh, I most definitely know that, _Ginevra_. I have lived with you for two years, after all."

She smiled. "So you have."

Miranda suddenly cleared her throat. "Well, shall we have dessert?"

And just like that Draco remembered where he was and what he was doing, and he knew that he most definitely was paying attention to the wrong woman. It was Miranda he was dating, Miranda who he was supposed to flirt with. Ginny was just his flatmate; she was—she should—mean absolutely nothing to him. But she did. _She_ did.

"Draco?" prompted Miranda.

"Excuse me for a minute," said Draco, completely ignoring the brunette as he stood up from his chair.

"I should probably check on him," said Ginny, and quickly followed him out of the room.

Draco knew she was behind him, which is why, as soon as they had escaped the prying eyes of his guests, he pushed her up against the wall and claimed her mouth hungrily with his own. She was too surprised to resist, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, fisting a hand in her hair as he pulled her closer to him. She moaned softly into his lips, and he clutched her tighter, needing to feel every inch of her body pressed against his own.

"Wait," panted Ginny, putting her hands on his chest to hold him back. "We can't do this."

"Of course we can," said Draco, and he leaned in again to kiss her.

Ginny stubbornly held him back. "Your girlfriend is waiting for you in the other room."

"Screw Miranda," responded the blond heatedly. "I don't give a damn about her! I only care about you!" He cradled her face in his hands, meeting her eyes with his own intense grey. "You're the one I want, Weasley—the one I've always wanted."

"Somehow I find that doubtful to believe."

"I swear I'm telling the truth. I'll break up with Miranda right now if you want me to."

"That won't be necessary," said a cold voice.

Draco turned his head to see Miranda watching them, disgust etched all over her face.

"I suppose I should have seen this coming," said Miranda bitterly. "You always did enjoy being with her more than me."

Draco remained silent. Really, there was nothing he could say.

"Well, you got what you wanted; I just hope you don't live to regret it, because you'll never get another chance with me. Oh, and don't bother to call me."

"Don't worry. I won't."

Miranda flushed, offended by his blasé attitude. She gave one last look of loathing at Ginny and then turned on her heel and swept out of the room. They heard her shrieking something at her parents, followed by the sound of the front door slamming shut, and then her parents also left, though Valeria took the time to pop her head in the kitchen and thank them for the lovely dinner.

"That was a little odd," said Ginny once she and Draco were alone again.

"I know."

Ginny looked at him reproachfully. "You were quite mean to her, you know?"

"She'll get over it."

"And how do I know you won't just shrug me off without a second thought when you grow tired of me?"

"I'll never grow tired of you, Ginny."

"But how do you know?"

"Well, we've lasted these past two years living together. How hard can it be to live together as a real couple?"

"Is this your way of asking me to be your girlfriend?"

"I think it is."

She was silent for a moment, and then a smile touched her lips.

"Well then," said Ginny, taking another step towards him. "How about you show your girlfriend this supposedly fabulous dessert you've made?"

"With pleasure, though I'm a little worried she might not be as impressed with it as I hoped she would be."

"Oh, she'll be impressed. She did show you how to make it, after all."

"You're right," murmured Draco as he took her into his arms. "She did."


End file.
